Autumn Life
by Sindie
Summary: Snape somehow survives Nagini's attack, but he isn't particularly happy about it. Harry wishes he was.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I do not own anything related to Harry Potter. No money is being made.

Author's Note: I guess you could say I was inspired to write again. I haven't tried writing fanfiction in seven months, not since finishing my longest story ever. This was originally intended to be a one-shot, but I think it will work better as a few short chapters. This story will not be very long.

After watching the sixth movie, I was thinking about the interaction, or lack thereof, between Snape and Harry in the last book. Book six set everything up, and after witnessing Snape trapped serving two masters, I found myself needing to write this. I know there are several other stories where Snape somehow survives, but this is being written mostly for my enjoyment. I will not go into great detail about how he survives exactly, as that is not meant to be the point of this story. I wish for some reconciliation between Harry and Snape... and for Snape to live and finally truly live (not having to serve anyone)!

Autumn Life

By Sindie

Chapter One

The first rays of sunlight filtered into the room, illuminating the dust that was floating above. Beyond the almost-opaque whiteness, the cracked ceiling further obstructed any view of the blue promise of a sky that marked another dawn.

He tried to blink, to shift his eyes slightly downward to see if he was indeed somehow still clinging to life, but paralysis had set in, and he wondered how he was still here.

It had still been night when he had fallen, and all had utterly become black. How he had hoped for sweet release from his pain, both physically-induced by the snake's bite and loss of blood and the years upon years of the much worse mentally-induced type.

Had the venom made him delusional, even in the afterlife?

It would seem his vision wasn't the only sense fooling him. A creak from the right, followed by a shuffling of footsteps, could be heard. Then a voice.

"He's just as we left him."

Someone was now kneeling at his side, and he felt the gentle ministrations of delicate fingers pushing his matted hair away from his forehead and cheek. A face swam into view, a girl's visage surrounded by a halo of untamed hair. She drew closer and gazed into his eyes for a long moment and then felt around his neck. If he could have, he would have withdrawn with a sharp intake of breath, but oddly, there was no pain.

"Harry!" the girl suddenly shrieked.

More movement and the familiar face with those penetrating green eyes was upon him once again.

"What is it, Hermione?"

"I- I think he's alive," Hermione said shakily, and once again, her hands went to the man's neck.

Harry's fumbling fingers joined hers a second later, confirming the truth.

"How is that possible?" Harry asked, shocked. Leaning into view, Harry questioned, "Professor? Sir, can you hear me?"

There was no response.

Dropping all pretenses, Harry continued, more frantically, "Snape?"

For his part, Snape could, of course, hear them, and a part of him was growing annoyed with their incessant questions. Could he not, at least, have been granted some pardon from having to see Harry Potter again? He supposed it was too much to ask: death. The smallest part of his mind that he allowed to indulge in childhood dreams had even gone so far as to believe he might be reunioned with his dear Lily, but no...

"Harry, we've got to get him back to the castle," Hermione was saying, trying to keep her tone reasonable and calm. "We came here to get him, anyway, but now that he's alive, we can't waste another moment. I'm going to put him under a Stasis Charm to keep him stable."

Harry gazed down into the unblinking eyes of the man he once hated, who he had loathed only mere hours ago, but now a man who he wanted to live. He had so many questions, but more than that, Harry's wishes to tell Snape what he truly thought of him now, how brave he was, could be spoken directly to his mother's old friend... should he survive.

A pleasant warmth washed over Snape, followed by darkness, and he knew no more.

x x x x x

When consciousness returned, the sun's brightness was overwhelming. Snape squinted, turning his head away from the light, not even realizing the miracle that he could move again. He had not a moment to compose his thoughts before he was inundated with more questions.

"Professor! You're awake! How do you feel?"

Snape would have groaned had it not hurt to make a sound with his ravaged throat, and unfortunately, that also meant no speaking on his part. Instead, he kept his gaze turned away from Harry, staring stonily at the wall.

Harry sighed. He stood from his seat, announcing some rubbish about getting Madam Pomfrey and a Healer.

Snape felt the pain returning with a vengence. Apparently he was no longer numb, but he had no firm idea what potions had been administered... probably a blood-replenisher and an anti-venom, though. A pain reducing potion would be nice right about now, however.

Why everyone felt the need to fuss over him with their hands was beyond him. To his irritation, Madam Pomfrey released a relieved sob and checked him over, and the Healer did likewise, only in a thankfully much more clinical way.

"Will he be all right?" Harry insisted of the mediwitch and Healer.

"Time will tell, but the fact that he's returned to consciousness is very promising. It will take some time before he recovers his voice... if he recovers it," the Healer stated baldly.

Snape grimaced. How dare they speak about him as if he weren't there!

The only good thing to come out of this inspection of his person was a vial of pain reducing potion, although Madam Pomfrey practically shoved it down his throat. He supposed he was too weak to move his arms, anyway, but that didn't prevent the wounding of his pride.

Refusing to look upon the others, Snape willed his eyes closed. Before returning to blissful sleep, Madam Pomfrey was murmuring in a tearful voice, "It's a miracle that he survived, the poor man. You did the right thing in bringing him here when you did."

"Yeah... a miracle," Harry whispered, wishing Snape would have looked at him.

Snape's mind, however, was as bitter as ever, for his last passing thought before he fell asleep, wondering if Madam Pomfrey had laced the potion with a sleeping draught, was, _You should have left me die, Potter. Now you are no doubt basking in your glory of having played the hero again. At least it would seem you defeated the Dark Lord after all._

In some ways, Snape was still numb.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter Two

The darkness eventually began to lighten, and shadows shifted as the day wore on. Feeling a dull pain suffusing much of his body, Snape chanced opening his eyes to see if he was indeed in the hospital wing at Hogwarts.

Yes, the awful truth was confirmed. What he had experienced earlier had not been a dream after all.

Other than the pain, he felt thirsty. He grappled at his sides for his wand, but realized it was not on his person. Managing to sit up, he was not surprised to find himself donning a white gown and sheets. He pushed back the coverings irritably and turned toward the bedside table, finding his wand lying there... and a glass of water.

Glancing around, Snape saw that he was, mercy of mercies, alone. He reached for the glass more quickly than was wise and immediately regretted his hastiness.

The groan that should have escaped his mouth never came, and he sighed, only an exhalation of air to be heard.

So his voice was still absent.

Taking things more slowly during the second round, Snape stretched out his hand for the glass, grasped it, and greedily drank down the whole goblet. Feeling slightly better and foolishly hoping against hope that perhaps a mere quenching of his thirst would liberate his voice, Snape tried uttering a single word: "Hello."

His cracked lips moved, and the air moved over his tongue and through his mouth, but nothing.

Slumping back against the pillow, Snape crossed his arms, not grateful in the least that he was well enough to move his body now. Just as he started to contemplate whether he would be doomed to have to listen to everyone else's prattle without the small benefit of retorting back, Minerva McGonagall entered the infirmary.

_Oh, Merlin. Here comes the harpy who drove me out of the school not more than two days ago._

McGonagall stopped several feet away and surveyed him. Snape scowled back at her, never relaxing his stiff pose.

Then came a sniffle, and McGonagall was blubbering nonsense at him.

"Oh, Severus! Thank God you're alive! You have no idea the amount of guilt and remorse I felt after I found out the truth from Potter about you-"

Snape started, opening his mouth to demand what she was talking about. Potter had told her everything, his deepest secrets?

_Those weren't Potter's secrets to share!_

Realizing her folly, McGonagall stopped, trying to compose herself. "Forgive me, Severus. There is much you don't know, but you can surmise that Potter was victorious. You-Know-Who is gone, dead. Whilst they were battling, everyone witnessed what he had to say to V-Voldemort. He defended you, Severus. I think he wanted You-Know-Who to know the truth about you, how you had deceived him for years."

_Great,_ Snape thought sardonically, the line between his eyes deepening as he continued to glare.

He sincerely hoped that McGonagall would spare him further platitudes. He didn't need an explanation from her. Of course she had thought him evil. He had given her no reason to think otherwise!

"I am sorry, Severus," McGonagall said plainly.

_At least you've stopped your ridiculous tears, Minerva._

"I have been told you can't talk."

_Obviously._

She sighed, knowing this conversation would go no where if he couldn't at least bite back. Thinking just that, McGonagall smiled and chuckled softly.

"You know, Severus, what I wouldn't give to hear you calling me a daft, old biddy right about now, laced with venom and sarcasm to boot."

Snape's eyes widened in surprise, and without his conscious control, his mouth opened slightly.

McGonagall stepped closer, emboldened that she had floored her longtime colleague. She was uncomfortably close now.

"Contrary to what you may think, Severus, I didn't want to think the worst of you this past year. Most of our years as teachers, I grew rather fond of our spats and wages over who would win Quidditch. I am glad to know that you are and have always been a good man."

Snape wished she would stop. She had already caught him by surprise once, but this was becoming downright embarrassing. He turned his eyes away in silent shame, wishing again that he would have simply died.

"You don't get to have the last word this time, Severus, but there will come a day when you do, I am sure."

McGonagall did the unthinkable and squeezed his hand. She retreated without another word.

Feeling caged, Snape had the urge to remove himself from his place as quickly as possible. He would not sit here a moment longer in this bed and listen to people's agologies and kind words that had come too late.

Swinging his legs over the side of the bed, he pushed himself to the edge and gingerly applied pressure to his feet, in hopes of standing. Not a moment after he was up did he lose his balance and fall back onto the bed.

He knew it would be futile to try again, especially for fear of alerting Madam Pomfrey.

Madam Pomfrey would have been preferable to his next visitor. Honestly, didn't anyone think he deserved some privacy?

_Potter._

"Good evening, sir," Harry greeted him awkwardly.

Snape refused to look at the boy. Maybe if he ignored him long enough, he would go away.

But Potters were annoying and persistent.

"I won't bother you for long," Harry continued, "but I just wanted... to see how you were doing. Please, Professor, will you at least look at me?"

_There is nothing to say to you, Potter. Looking at you would only be giving you what you want._

Harry sighed and had the audacity to sit down. "Okay, fine... Don't look at me, then. I guess you still haven't gotten you voice back, huh?"

_Astute as ever._

"You know, sir, I know you don't like me. I don't expect that to change overnight, but I cannot hate you now, not knowing the truth like I do. She- my mum, this is... Don't you think she would've hated to see the way things are between us? I mean, you were her best friend, and I'm her son. It's stupid, probably, but I was just imagining that if she were standing here now, alive, maybe she'd wish for all this unnecessary hatred to end."

Snape closed his eyes. Why did Potter have to bring up Lily, thus pulling the one card that Potter knew would unravel him? The boy wasn't playing fair, and he bloody well knew it!

Snape was no coward. He found his resolve and finally glared directly into Harry's green eyes, only to regret it. Damn the boy and his mother's eyes! It was like Lily pleading with him.

Reaching for a piece of parchment on the bedstand, Snape pointed his wand at it, inscribing some words. He handed it to Harry.

"What do you want from me?" they read.

And unspoken: _Haven't I already given you enough?_

Harry stared down at the paper for a long while before answering.

"I want you to know some happiness, sir. I'm not asking for anything but for you to want something good for yourself for once."

Harry placed a vial filled with silvery liquid/gas on the table next to the bed.

"And I thought you ought to have your memories back."


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter Three

Snape was left with much to think about that day as night began to fall. What was Potter playing at, telling him he simply wanted him to be happy? Snape mentally snorted at the thought. No one ever had wished for his happiness without there being some sort of strings attached. Dumbledore, especially, had taught him that.

Lily had been different from most, but it had been years since he had last seen her, and Snape often wondered if he was more in love with the memory of the person he thought she was than with who she might have truly been. In the end, even she had walked out of his life without looking back.

Could her son be more willing to forgive than Lily herself?

If that was the case, and Snape shuddered to think so, then Potter was definitely not his father. Had he been so blinded all these years by his hatred that he had refused to see that Harry was more like Lily?

Snape shook his head. No, it couldn't be. Potter may have brought him back to the castle and essentially saved his miserable life, but all that did was make Snape resent the boy even more.

All over again, he wondered why he couldn't have simply been granted the peace that death would have provided.

x x x x x

Most of the students had gone home by this point, so Harry, Ron, and Hermione were alone in the Gryffindor common room. Ever since returning to Hogwarts for the final battle, none of them had wanted to leave, nor did they feel it appropriate, given the aftermath. So many lives had been lost and would be remembered in the coming days, and Hogwarts was the place for those memorials.

"He still can't talk," Harry explained to his two best friends. "I think I probably annoyed him more than anything with my presence today." He sighed, looking into the flames in the fireplace.

Hermione gave Harry a half-smile, watching the shadows dance across his face. By Merlin, he looked so mature now.

"He never was a happy man," Hermione observed sadly.

"Happy or not, you'd think he'd be a bit more grateful toward you for saving his life," Ron groused.

"Maybe, but that would be like asking a giant to be civilized," Hermione stated.

Silence fell between them, but Harry finally spoke.

"I don't think he wants to live."

"So that gives him the right to be a git toward you?" cut in Ron, his brows arched inward.

Harry didn't retort. Even since Fred had died, Ron had been on edge and had spent more time alone than usual, refusing comfort. Harry couldn't blame his friend for his emotional outbursts.

Hermione reached for Ron's hand before the red-head could pull away. Ron reluctantly accepted the comfort Hermione was offering him and turned his head away.

"The big day is tomorrow," Ron muttered bitterly. "They'll remember all the fallen as war heroes."

"Ron..." Hermione murmured gently.

Harry stood and felt it best to give his friends some time alone. He wished Ginny had stayed, but she was home with her family. Unlike her brother, she wanted to be around her family during this hard time.

"I'm going up to bed," Harry announced. "See you in the morning."

x x x x x

With the memorial services the following day to remember the fallen, Harry was occupied. Besides, he figured his visit with Snape the previous day in the infirmary hadn't gone so well, and he didn't want to become nothing more than an annoyance to the man.

_If I'm not already that,_ Harry thought bitterly.

From within the hospital wing, Snape could see out the window as the masses gathered on the grounds to pay their respects. He wondered if he would have been among those honored, but thought it more likely that most people would have thought him a traitor and a coward, no matter what Harry said in his defense.

Feeling that someone was beside him, Snape turned and found Madam Pomfrey standing there.

He raised an eyebrow in question at her and moved his lips without thinking. A rasp issued forth from his mouth, and Madam Pomfrey gasped.

"Did you just try to say something, Severus?" she asked.

Realizing he had intended to say a simply "What?", Snape nodded, closing his mouth, afraid that if he dared to try and speak again, no sound would come.

"Try it again, dear boy, please," Madam Pomfrey urged.

Snape scowled at her. Infernal woman!

"Wha-" he started to say, but his frayed vocal chords closed up, and he coughed. Shaking his head, he realized he couldn't utter more than a syllable, and his once beautiful voice had been reduced to a choking, rasping mess.

Madam Pomfrey seemed jubilant, however.

"Severus, do you know what this means? Your voice is coming back!"

_How perceptive of you, Poppy, although I would hardly call this croaking my voice, let alone any proper abililty to speak._

The mediwitch was practically beaming now. Glancing out the window, she confessed, "That is something joyful to celebrate on a day like this. We call it a celebration of the lives of those who have gone before us, but really, there is still far too much grief and sorrow filling the air. Three days is not enough time to accept-" She stopped abruptly, released a sob.

Snape sighed. How could he blame her for grieving? Feeling he ought to say something, he managed, "It's... okay... Poppy."

Overcome with emotion, Madam Pomfrey flung her arms around Snape, who sat stiffly, shocked by her display. Under normal circumstances, he would have recoiled, but these were not typical times.

The wall Snape had worked so hard to erect around his heart for so many years began to crumble the smallest amount that day as he realized that one person, at least, was grateful he was still alive.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter Four

Harry stayed away from the infirmary for a couple of days after the memorial services. He tried imagining what would have been said about Snape had he perished along with so many others - how if anyone dared to try and utter anything less than kind or dignified about the man, he would have stood up on the spot and fiercely defended him.

Ron was ready to return home with his family after the services finished that evening, and Harry didn't blame him in the least. He wondered if Ron had stayed at Hogwarts for him, when really, the red-haired boy should have been with his family during this time of grief. Hermione was torn about what to do, but in the end, she went with Ron.

Harry decided it was better that way. They needed time alone, especially after it being the three of them for the past several months. As much as Harry longed to see Ginny (somewhere away from the funeral), he felt staying at Hogwarts was the most appropriate place to be right now. It had been his home for most of the past seven years, and honestly, where would he go now that he no longer would be living with the Dursleys? He owned Grimmauld Place, but being there only reminded him of another loss, Sirius.

As Harry sat peering out the window next to his four-poster bed in Gryffindor Tower, he reflected back on how he had imagined the aftermath of the war to be for so long. He had hoped for nothing but joy in the days following Voldemort's demise, but now he knew those were the dreams of a child. There had been too much loss, but he also knew much had been gained. He simply couldn't feel the positive side of the outcome so fresh after the war.

If his thoughts were this low, Harry wondered what Snape was thinking. The man had lived too many years in bitterness to easily embrace any small amount of happiness, yet that was what Harry wanted for the older wizard. His admission to Snape a few days earlier had been honest. If Snape could be happier, anyone could be, Harry figured.

With a sigh, Harry stood and headed for the exit. After descending the stairs, he gazed around the familiar Gryffindor common room. He was now truly alone. Despite the warmth of spring outside, the room felt cold. Finding his resolve and making up his mind, Harry exited the common room without looking back and made his way down the corridor, intent on visiting Snape again. He needed someone to talk to, someone who would understand better than most what he was feeling. Even if Snape couldn't talk, whether because his voice was still missing or simply because of his stubbornness, Harry was determined to tell the man a few things he had swallowed back, choking on his words, earlier in the week.

Upon his arrival, Harry noticed that Snape was sitting up in bed, engrossed in a book. He appeared to be feeling better.

If Harry thought he could enter without drawing attention to himself, he was gravely mistaken.

The trademark sneer was already upon Snape's face the moment Harry took his first step into the room. Putting his book down on his lap, Snape raised an eyebrow in question and rasped, "Potter, what... are... you... doing... here?"

The moment the words left his mouth, Snape regretted speaking. Not only was his throat raw and sore, but he had wasted the energy and time uttering words to Potter!

Harry stopped in his tracks, stunned. "You spoke," he stated stupidly, although clearly in shock.

Snape raised the book, hiding his face from the insolent boy, and decided it best to try and ignore him.

Harry, however, was not cowed. He carefully approached Snape and stopped only when he was uncomfortably close to the foot of the bed.

"Sir, I'm sure I'm the last person you want to see, but have you thought at all about what I said a few days ago? I meant that, Professor. And... and I'm happy to see you have your voice back."

Snape tried to focus on the text of what he was reading, but Potter's voice was making it hard to concentrate. More silence ensued.

"Is having a conversation with me really that horrible?" Harry asked, starting to feel put out.

Snape was irate. He slammed the book shut and lowered it to his lap harshly in one fluid motion. "That... goes without... saying," he spat. "And this," here he pointed at his throat, where the bandages kept Nagini's bite wounds covered, "is... not... my voice." He missed his silky drawl. His temper was flying quickly out of check, and Snape began coughing.

Madam Pomfrey had taken a short break and so was not around, thus leaving Snape to his own devices. He motioned toward a glass sitting nearby, which Harry instantly grabbed and filled with water, handing it to his ex-professor in concern.

Once the hacking subsided, Snape set the glass down with as much dignity as a man in his condition could muster and glared at Harry.

"Are you okay, sir?"

"Fine," Snape muttered. "Never... better."

Despite himself, Harry half-smiled. "I'm glad for it... and that you still have retained your sarcasm. I didn't appreciate it before, but now that I think of it, sir, perhaps it's your own style of humor."

Snape simply glared.

"Okay, fine," Harry sobered. "Let me get to the point, then."

_I had been hoping for that small miracle since your arrival, Potter._

"I am sorry for not trusting you before," Harry began emphatically, "and before you argue the point, I'm going to say that it should have been enough that Dumbledore trusted you for me to do likewise. But more than that, sir, I'd like to thank you for everything you've done for me-"

"I didn't... do it... for you... Potter," Snape cut in.

"Okay, okay," Harry back-pedaled. "I know you did it for her, my mum, but still, everything you did was completely selfless. I didn't expect you to reveal your love for her to me, but knowing what I do now, I still wish you had. I would've understood, sir, contrary to what you might have thought. I'm not my father. I felt horrible enough when I saw how my father mistreated you-"

"If this... is supposed to make... me feel better," Snape interrupted, growing tired of Potter's prattle, "you're failing... miserably."

Harry sighed, stopping. In his mind, he had rehearsed a hundred times over what he would say to Snape, but he fell apart in the man's presence. Why did Snape have to make people trip over their words and feel like idiots?

"That wasn't my intention," Harry ground out, hating how difficult this entire situation was. "I guess... I just wanted to talk to someone who might understand."

"Understand?" Snape was puzzled.

"The effects of this whole bloody mess of a war. We both had to sacrifice so much, almost including our lives," Harry blurted. "I thought I'd be happy by this point. Don't get me wrong - I'm glad Voldemort is gone forever, but everything feels so empty now. When I told you I wanted you to be happy, I meant it, but now I'm thinking that maybe I was just being a fool to think that possible, at least anytime soon. If I can't find happy, how could I expect you to be? You- you suffered more than any of us, and no one appreciated anything you did until it was almost too late. If you had died like the rest of them-" Harry choked, missing his parents, Sirius, Dumbledore, Remus, Tonks, and Fred... Dobby... so many others... Harry looked up, gazing into Snape's face, hoping for understanding.

_Damn it all to hell! Why, why does this boy have to look at me with those eyes?!_

"Why... come to me?" Snape asked. "I've never... been a nice... man. If you're looking... for compassion... why not... go to your friends?"

"Because they aren't here now, and besides, no matter how much they were with me through it all, they were never asked to give up what we were, Professor. Dumbledore knew what we were sacrificing. I've lost enough people in my life. Had you died, you would've been among them."

When Snape looked at Harry incredulously, Harry hastily continued, "No, really! Knowing the truth about you changes everything, and I can't go back to thinking about you with loathing. You were a nasty git, don't get me wrong, but I doubt anyone else I know would've been able to do what you did. You're probably the bravest man I've ever known."

Snape wanted to hide. All he could do was shake his hair forward and avert his eyes. His first instinct was to lash out in a cruel, cold, cutting voice and correct any misconceptions the idiot boy had about him, but he was sitting in a hospital bed in a weakened state, could barely utter more than two words at a time without coughing... had lost his beautiful voice, his pride, his modesty, his resolve...

Finally, Snape's black eyes gazed into the desperate green. He wondered if his own eyes had been so filled with emotion when he had pleaded with Lily to forgive him. What he would have given for her forgiveness! And here was this boy who had known so much in his short life, Lily's son, readily and willing to forgive...

"You are... truly... your mother's... son," Snape whispered.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter Five

"You are... truly... your mother's... son," Snape whispered.

For a long moment, Harry didn't say anything. The shock of what Snape had just uttered was too much. Had his ears been deceiving him? Could Snape, the man who had housed nothing but loathing for Harry for the past seven years, have just paid Harry a compliment?

For his part, Snape realized what he had just said and was starting to question why he had done so, for the boy across from him was silent.

_Idiot,_ Snape mentally chided himself. _ Now you've done it-_

But before Snape could finish his self-deprecating thought, Harry spoke.

"Th-thank you, sir," Harry stuttered, unsure of what else to say. He exchanged what he hoped was a sincere, meaningful look with the older wizard.

Snape felt distinctively uncomfortable and shifted his weight in the bed, wishing Harry would leave. He had said his piece. Wasn't that sufficient for the insufferable Boy-Who-Lived-Twice-Just-To-Annoy-Him?

"Very well," Snape said dismissively. "Now that that's settled... perhaps you ought to... be on your way, Potter?" He even shooed Harry away with his hand, hoping to make his point clear.

Something inside Harry sank. His shoulders visibly slumped, and he released a long sigh. "But I thought... Sir, I thought we were on the right track there. Isn't that just the start?"

"You say you want... me to be happy," Snape stated, scowling with disgust as if the word "happy" tasted rotten. "If that is true... then I would... be happier..." he clipped sharply, "if you... left me in peace."

"For now?" Harry asked hopefully.

_No, preferably forever._

One look into those pleading green eyes was enough to soften the dour man enough to mutter, "Yes... for now."

Harry brightened and stood. "I'll be back tomorrow, then?"

"How am I... to stop you?" Snape posed sarcastically.

Harry offered a smile and turned, saying, "Have a good day, sir."

Once he was out in the hallway, Harry felt a tingling warmth spreading through him. Snape hadn't outright rejected him! Filled with renewed hope, Harry walked with a bounce in his step.

x x x x x

That night, while Harry was sleeping soundly in his familiar four-poster bed in Gryffindor Tower, Snape was left with his thoughts. For one, he wished to leave the infirmary and return to his old dungeon rooms, but he wasn't sure if he would even be staying at Hogwarts at this point. McGonagall had offered him the Defense position, for surely it was no longer cursed, as he had already declined continuing on as headmaster. That position was rightfully hers, he contested. He had never wanted it. He did not think being in the company of Dumbledore's portrait more than necessary would be good either. To be reminded of the past, of having to do the dastardly deed of killing his mentor and the closest person to a friend besides Lily was not his idea of a healthy way of spending his time.

More than anything, though, Snape thought about Harry Potter. He wondered what proverbial can of worms he may have opened that afternoon by inviting the boy to catch a glimpse of his true self, and to further complicate matters, he had gone and allowed the ingrate to return! Snape wasn't sure what he felt toward Harry other than annoyance. He didn't hate the boy anymore, but that didn't mean they needed to become friends.

_How much easier it would be if Potter were actually more like his father in personality, for then it would be easy to dismiss him, to loathe him..._

With these thoughts churning in his wary mind, Snape fell into a fitfull sleep, dreaming of Lily.

_He was roaming among some trees, trying to find their spot by the river where the trees thinned into an opening just large enough for the two of them. Of course, he wasn't a child anymore, so the space seemed a lot smaller. Lily was standing there already, as if waiting for him._

_"Hi, Sev!" her melodic voice greeted him, ringing with laughter._

_He could feel his face relaxing into a rare smile. "Lily?" _

_He reached out toward her with disbelief._

_"Yes, silly, of course it's me," Lily continued, smiling widely. "I had hoped you'd come."_

_"Were you expecting me?" Snape asked, curious and confused, but filled with hope and wonder._

_"Oh, yes, I've been waiting a very long time. You see, I live on in him, but you refused to see me until it was almost too late." Here, Lily's beautiful face grew sad._

_Snape thought her eyes were shining with unshed tears. His heart clenched._

_"I am... sorry to have caused you pain," he said sorrowfully, gazing down at his feet. "You shouldn't even be happy to see me. Lily, you know what I was... what I did."_

_"I have seen much, Severus, but I see perhaps more in you than you ever saw in yourself. You protected Harry, even though it pained you greatly to do so, and in the end, you almost lost your life doing so. Consider this a second chance, Sev. If you want to know me, know my son."_

_"I will... I will try," Snape faltered, unsure of himself._

_Lily's smile returned, and she stepped toward him, embracing him._

_"You have been through so much, Sev... been so hurt and been hurting for so long... If you don't want to cause me any more pain, then be happy, Sev, be happy."_

_Her breath was like a kiss to his ear, brushing his cheek, barely there, yet intensely real._

The next thing he knew, Snape was gazing into the blackness of the infirmary. Only a couple of wall sconces lit the room. His breathing was heavy, and he realized he was sitting fully up in bed, his brow covered in sweat.

He raised a shaky hand to the spot where Lily's breath had grazed his skin, wishing she had been real.

x x x x x

Harry returned as he had promised. It was lunchtime, so Snape had a tray of food in front of him. Harry had declined eating in the Great Hall, so his stomach was growling rather fiercely as he watched Snape spoon the chicken soup into his mouth.

"Do stop... gaping at me... like a fish, Potter," Snape snapped. "Why in Merlin's... good name... didn't you eat... before you came... to bother me?"

Harry shrugged. "I didn't think I'd be that hungry. A half-hour ago, I felt fine."

Snape snorted. "Typical adolescent boy."

Harry thought Snape's voice sounded a little less hoarse, but maybe that was due to the warmth of the soup coursing down his throat every few minutes.

Harry grinned. "How are you feeling, sir?"

"This 'sir' nonsense... is ridiculous," Snape replied. "I am not... your teacher."

Harry knew Snape was purposefully evading answering. "It's a simple question, uh... Professor."

Snape threw a dirty look at Harry, but sighed. "Wonderful, as always," he bit out.

"What will you do?"

"Do?"

"I mean, will you still teach? I heard McGonagall was taking the position as the head of the school. Didn't you want it?" Harry asked, truly curious.

"So many... damned questions. Is that how... I am to be happy? By your inane, persistent questions... Potter?"

"Sorry, but what would you rather talk about? My mum?" Harry posed blatantly.

Snape blanched, and before he could retort with an appropriate reply, Harry pursued, "All right, then. What was she like? Everyone tells me about my dad, but I know very little about her. And don't just use that old line about me having her eyes."

Snape glared at Harry, but then remembered the dream. "She was kind," he stated.

"And?" Harry prodded. "That's a generic term. I saw her in your memories, and yeah, she was nice, but that doesn't tell me much about her, really. You were best friends. You knew her better than anyone I know."

"She was kinder than most," Snape exhaled in one breath, feeling all the air go out of him. "She..." He paused to consider his words. "She saw the best... in people, even those... who didn't deserve it. But she had... quite the temper, yes." Snape wasn't paying attention to the boy at his side as he continued. Snape smiled fondly, and Harry wondered what unspoken thoughts were drifting through his mind.

"I'd love to hear all about it," Harry cut in carefully.

Snape broke out of his reverie and frowned.

"But it doesn't have to be today," Harry amended hastily.

"Good," Snape intoned, "because I don't... have the patience... or the desire right now." He smirked at Harry.

Author's Note: Thank you to all who read and especially reviewed so far! I stand by what I originally said - that this story will not be long. You see, I'm eight months pregnant, so I simply will not have the time to devote to writing something long. My priorities will be changing very soon! Until then, enjoy!


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter Six

In the days that followed, Harry began to feel his spirits lighten. Not only did the daily visits with Snape in the infirmary provide him with insight into his mother, but seeing the older wizard recuperate was also heartening.

Snape was growing physically stronger by the day and was now able to walk about the infirmary with the assistance of holding onto something or a cane, and while he would have preferred the privacy of his own quarters, he knew that being at Hogwarts afforded him the solitude he cherished. He couldn't be bothered by nosy reporters like Rita Skeeter, who were, he had heard, longing for an exclusive interview with the unlikely war hero.

He no longer read the _Daily Prophet_. It was filled with nothing but gossip and speculation about many of the prominent wizards and witches who had fought in the war, most notably Harry Potter. Snape didn't care what sort of rubbish the paper was saying about himself.

On a positive note, the Healer who had originally diagnosed Snape's condition affirmed a week later that the professor was on the right path to healing. Remarkably, Snape's voice had improved dramatically, although it was still raspy, but at least he could speak in complete sentences without feeling his throat constrict.

That afternoon, Harry walked into the infirmary and wadded a copy of the _Prophet _up in his hands and promptly threw it into the fireplace.

Snorting, Harry took his usual seat next to Snape and stated, "Apparently, you're the most eligible bachelor now."

Snape refrained, just barely, from rolling his eyes, and huffed in annoyance. "How enlightening. Why do you even bother to read that rag, Potter?"

Shrugging, Harry replied, "I thought there might actually be something useful in it one of these days, but I was mistaken." Sobering, Harry continued, "The _Prophet _is heralding you as a hero, you know, although not everyone agrees."

"Let them think what they want about me," Snape muttered. "I have grown used to distrust for years. This would not be the first time people espoused their hatred for me."

"But it's bollocks!" Harry protested. "They should know the truth by now, and I've-"

"Yes, we all know the role you've played in this, Potter," Snape said sourly. "You've filled their heads with delusions about me."

"It was only one interview," Harry defended. "Don't you want them to know the truth?"

"It doesn't matter," Snape muttered bitterly, staring down at the sheets around his waist.

Harry's shoulders slumped in concern, and he leaned toward Snape. "You know, if you ever want to talk about it-"

"I don't," Snape cut him off sharply.

"All right, all right," Harry back-pedaled, holding up his hands in surrender.

When Snape didn't elaborate, Harry continued quietly, "I just thought... I do know what it's like to have lived through the horrors of the war, sir. I shared a connection with Voldemort that I wouldn't wish upon anyone."

Snape shuddered upon hearing his old master's name thrown so flippantly out there like that, at least that's how he observed Potter's use of the name.

"Don't say his blasted name," Snape interjected, angered.

"What's the problem?" Harry asked. "He's dead, gone."

"We were just discussing the horrors of the war, were we not? Well, if you must know, Potter, that name evokes all sorts of bad-"

Snape stopped speaking, knowing he was on the verge of revealing too much to the boy next to him. He crossed his arms defensively over his torso and refused to say more.

Harry took this as a sign to change the subject, but before doing so, he put in, "Just remember, sir - you're not alone."

Snape was used to being alone, so he wasn't comfortable with sharing his deepest thoughts with others, especially Harry Potter. He supposed he had told the boy what he had about Lily over the past several days because it would have been what Lily wanted.

Sighing, Snape said, "Why do you think it your mission in life to try and save people, Potter?"

The baldly stated question caught Harry unaware. He frowned, recalling Hermione's comment a couple of years ago about him having a "saving people thing."

"Is that such a bad thing?" Harry countered. Before Snape could formulate a reply, Harry continued, "And it's not like I do it on purpose, you know. In your case, sir, it seems that you don't _want _to be happy. Now that you're free of serving anyone or owing anyone anything, you could be happy, yet you seem, excuse the oxymoronic term, content to dwell on bitterness and regret."

"Don't talk about what you don't understand," Snape cut across the boy.

"Oh, I think I understand more than you think," Harry challenged, his voice rising slightly. Not wanting to draw Madam Pomfrey's attention, Harry lowered his voice and pursued, "If you won't let yourself be happy, then maybe you need someone to show you how to be."

Snape glared hotly. "What makes you think I need or want your help, Potter? I'm not a child, so don't pretend to act like my parent. Dumbledore thought he knew what was best, thought he could use my secrets to get what he wanted out of me, and I suppose he did, and I'm all the more fool for letting him. I will not be your puppet, too!" he hissed.

"I just said you were free," Harry pointed out, "and Dumbledore didn't want you to almost wind up dead. You knew the risk; you're not stupid. You don't know it, but Dumbledore wanted you to be the master of the Elder Wand. Maybe he felt it was the least he could do by asking you to kill him, I don't know, but he intended for you to have it, not me. I think he thought it was your best chance at protecting yourself from Voldemort."

Snape would have stood and towered over Harry if he could have, but he was confined to the bed, mostly since his legs couldn't react fast enough... and he would probably wind up toppling over anyway if he tried to stand.

"I don't know or care what Dumbledore may have wanted for me, and you are a hypocrite, Potter. You tell me I'm free, yet you wish to tell me how to live my life, even going so far as to tell me that you would make me be happy."

"I didn't say it had to be me!" Harry exclaimed hotly, now standing. "I just said 'someone', since it seems you don't know what's good for you!"

"Don't tell me what to do, Potter! You now see why it would've been better had I died, been given some damned peace from all this!" Here, Snape waved his arm dismissively around the infirmary, including toward Harry.

Harry glanced at Madam Pomfrey's door, which surprisingly hadn't opened yet. Perhaps she was secretly cheering Harry on for challenging her difficult patient? Harry didn't want to assume too much, so he forced himself to calm down and resumed his seat.

"I'm sorry," Harry said sullenly, not quite meeting Snape's eyes. "You're right - it's your choice how you want to live your life, but as your- uh-"

"Friend?" Snape sneered.

"Friend" didn't really describe their relationship, but when Harry tried to find a word for it, he failed. "Uh, it doesn't matter," Harry sighed. "As someone who'd like to see you happy, though, I wish you a better life than you've been given so far, sir."

"Such sentiments," Snape said sarcastically, not melting into Harry's convincing words.

Harry sighed softly, feeling dejected. Hadn't they gotten anywhere?

"You know, she'd hate this - to see us like this, fighting," Harry muttered, staring at the floor.

_Why must you always use Lily?_ Snape wondered, both annoyed and saddened.

Snape could have continued to sneer and berate the boy, blaming him just had he had blamed Dumbledore for using Lily against him, but Lily meant as much to Harry as she did to him. Deep inside, Snape knew that Harry meant well.

"Should I tell you more about her, then?" Snape asked quietly. "Isn't that what you came here seeking, after all?"

Harry looked up, surprise evident in his wide eyes, and he mouth gaped slightly. "That would... that would be generous of you, Snape."

"Very well, then..."

Author's Note: Thank you to all who continue to read and review! Also, many thanks to all who wished me well with my pregnancy/baby on the way! I'm sorry for the delay in this chapter, but I had a few days of writer's block.


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter Seven

Harry watched, transfixed, as Snape's normally scowling or sneering face took on a different expression altogether as he spoke about Lily. Once Snape began, he seemed to drift miles and years away, maybe even into another world. His eyes shone brightly with a far-off quality, and his facial muscles relaxed into what could be called a small smile. Harry thought his professor looked younger and happier.

Harry could have lost himself in hearing another story about his mum, and he supposed he did. He had never been read to as a young child, but he imagined this is what it must be like. Snape took the occasional moment to catch his breath, clear his scratchy throat, or take a sip of water, but he was otherwise engaged in telling the tale, a tale of when he had been much younger and certainly a lot more innocent.

When he finished, Harry had to shake himself out of his reverie. Snape raised a curious eyebrow at the young man.

"Enjoying yourself, Potter?" he inquired.

"Very much so, Snape," Harry replied. "I didn't know my mum was the one who taught you how to fly. Everyone just assumed-"

"That the Dark Lord had? Indeed," Snape snarled softly, his composure darkening again. "No, your mother was a very powerful witch, but you knew that. She was flying from the moment I first laid eyes on her."

Harry made a mental note to inform McGonagall that Snape hadn't learned flying without a broom from Voldemort, as she had stated when the man had "done a bunk" as headmaster.

"You know, sir," Harry suddenly said, "I think if I'd met you when you were just a kid, we could've gotten on fine. I mean, when I was eleven and you were eleven, I think we'd've maybe been... friends."

Snape shrugged, thinking it an odd thing to have said. He knew now that Harry had never been spoiled as a child and had, in fact, been mistreated by his relatives. The similarities in their childhoods were there, but Harry had grown to have friends, fame, and respect, things the young Snape had dreamed of.

"It's foolish to dwell on what ifs, Potter," Snape said repressively.

"And I suppose you speak from experience when you say that," Harry stated, no hint of malice in his voice, just fact.

Snape's brow lowered as he glared. "I do not wish to discuss it. I think that's enough for one day, don't you, Potter?"

Harry sighed. He guessed as much - that he had overstayed his welcome. He stood and nodded. "All right, then. Good day, Snape."

Snape gave him a curt nod in return. "Potter."

As Harry exited the infirmary, Snape wondered when he had grown okay with the boy using only his surname to address him. He wasn't sure if he would be the boy's professor again, if either of them would still be at Hogwarts come autumn, so perhaps they could view each other as equals now. Harry Potter wasn't a boy after all, but a young man.

x x x x x

Enough time passed, and Snape was finally well enough to return to his quarters. He had endured Harry's visits every day for the past week and a half and was glad for his privacy now. Somehow, and he was still wondering how, McGonagall had gotten into his good graces enough to convince him to remain at Hogwarts to teach. The Defense position was his, and since it was no longer cursed, he could have it as long as he wanted. Plus, he could still use the old lab where he used to do his own personal research in Potions.

Even though Hogwarts held both good and bad memories for Snape, it had been more of a home to him over the years than Spinner's End ever had been. Despite the bad, there was enough good to be had.

Harry stayed at Hogwarts as well, feeling it was his home, too. As the summer wore on, he wondered how long he could continue to stay, and when he found the infirmary empty one day, he briefly feared for the worst.

"Don't fret, Mr. Potter," Madam Pomfrey chided, seeing the worry on the young wizard's face. "Professor Snape has simply returned to his private rooms."

"Oh," Harry replied, feeling ridiculous. "Of course. Thank you."

Harry turned on his heel and left, wondering if Snape would still be open to speaking with him. He must have been well enough to walk if he were allowed back in his quarters. A part of Harry felt betrayed as he wondered, _Why didn't Snape tell me he was planning on returning to his rooms? I just saw him yesterday._

Harry thought things had been going well between them, but now figured he ought not be too surprised that Snape would retreat behind both the figurative and physical barriers he purposefully erected the moment he had his freedom again.

Had the man only tolerated Harry because he hadn't had much choice in the matter?

Feeling slightly hurt, Harry made his way through the castle and didn't even realize he had arrived in the dungeons. He was too busy watching his feet as he sullenly trod across the flagstones and ran into something rather solid.

"I just can't get away from you, can I, Potter?" sneered a derisive voice.

Harry gazed up and into the irritated face of Severus Snape.

Author's Note: Sorry for the delay. It shouldn't be as long before the next update!

Also, the idea that Snape learned to fly from Lily isn't my own. I've read it in plenty of other fanfics, most notably Northangle27's wonderful stories. It's an interesting concept! Remember how it seemed like Lily was flying when Snape first set eyes on her at the playground?


	8. Chapter 8

Author's Note: Since so many of you have asked, I'm going to answer: This story will not be much longer at all, only two more chapters. I never intended for this story to be long, and it's just supposed to be mostly about Snape and Harry's conversations as they come to understand each other better. Since my due date is less than a month away, I cannot commit to something longer. I poured my heart and soul into my novel-length fic, The Moment It Began, for a year and a half, so if you're looking to read something really long and developed by me, look there. This fic was originally intended to be a longish oneshot, but then I decided to break it up into a few short chapters. It has been written simply for my enjoyment, so no, there won't be any big plot twists or lengthy back stories of Snape's past or anything. I'm sorry, but I simply do not have the time or energy to devote to give a story like that to give it justice, but I hope you enjoy this little romp anyway. Thanks for reading!

Chapter Eight

"I just can't get away from you, can I, Potter?" sneered a derisive voice.

Harry gazed up and into the irritated face of Severus Snape.

"Uh, sorry," Harry apologized hastily. "I didn't see you there, sir."

"Obviously," Snape said, his voice dripping with venomous sarcasm. Harry watched as the man proceeded to fold his arms defensively and impatiently over his chest. He wouldn't have been surprised if the older wizard started tapping his foot in irritation.

"I heard you're staying on to teach at Hogwarts," Harry supplied, hoping Snape would lighten up a little.

"What of it? I suppose the headmistress informed you of that happy piece of news?"

"Nothing of it, Snape," Harry said, now growing defensive. "I just think it's good news, is all."

"And how much longer are you planning on gracing the corridors of Hogwarts with your honorable presence, Potter?" Snape asked.

"I'm not sure, actually," Harry admitted, "but I may stay for another year. Hermione and Ron are thinking of coming back. Hermione wants to catch up on the year she missed before taking her NEWTs."

"I thought the Ministry would give the high and mighty Harry Potter anything he wants," Snape said condescendingly. "Surely you don't need to return to school like lesser mortals? Aren't you exempt from the NEWTs should you wish to start Auror training immediately?"

Harry wanted to bark at Snape, to demand what his problem was, but he didn't think that would be a smart idea.

"For your information, _sir_," Harry began pointedly, "I don't want to be treated any differently from anyone else. I never have, and you know it. Why is it so difficult to have a simple conversation between us? I thought..." Harry trailed off, his shoulders slumping slightly.

"You thought what, Potter? That we would become 'good friends'? That our conversations over the past several days have been enough to establish a bond that will last a lifetime?" Snape posed, his voice more hissing than scratchy as this point.

Before Harry could answer, Snape cut across him, "Let me make one thing very clear, Potter: I have never needed anyone, nor did they have need for me, unless it was to get something from me. Now that I'm free of serving any master, the last thing I need or want is to offer myself up like a bloody slave, a damned puppet, to another."

"I'm sorry you feel that way," Harry said, taking a few steps back and shaking his head. "You're mistaken, though. I had thought it was clear that I didn't want anything from you, but that I wanted you to be happy. If you're so determined to be miserable and bitter, then that's your decision. I wouldn't want to be accused of trying to control you, after all," Harry spat, turning on his heel and retreating.

Harry felt like someone had taken a icy blade and shoved it straight through his heart and twisted it. He wouldn't let the insufferable bat of the dungeons see how much it hurt him to be rejected.

Left alone, Snape watched the boy go and shook his head.

"Idiot child," Snape muttered. "He's better off not growing any closer to me."

Snape returned to his quarters, hoping the familiarity of them would bring him some peace. He certainly found the quiet he was looking for, but as he sat in his old armchair that had been molded to fit only his body comfortably over the years, he found it difficult to concentrate on his book.

About thirty minutes later, sighing irritably, Snape set the book aside and closed his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose. Why did Potter have to have gotten under his skin this much? Why did Potter care what Snape did with his life?

_Why do I care what Potter thinks?_

_Because the boy is so ridiculously forgiving, more so than his mother, even._

Years of being cruel to the boy had caused an easy hatred between them, and while Snape hoped his cutting words toward Harry today would be perceived in the same light, Snape's intent hadn't been to be simply vile and mean. He was trying to keep Harry at a distance for his own good. Harry had friends and his whole undoubtably wonderful life ahead of him, yet he had been spending his days holed up in this castle, away from his loved ones, and talking with him, Snape!

Snape stood and left his comfort zone, intent on finding Harry. He used the Point Me spell and knew the young man had gone outside. Snape stepped onto the grounds, which were bathed in sunlight, and spotted Harry's thin form sitting by the lake. He seriously wondered if he had gone mad. A couple of weeks ago, Snape couldn't have cared less what Harry thought.

Harry was busy staring at the giant squid's tentacles as they lazily waved about the water when he heard a voice, partially scratchy and partially velvety as it had once been, ask, "Did it ever occur to you, Potter, that what would make me happy is to simply be left alone?"

Harry started and turned. "Snape," he said, frowning up at the other wizard. It was clear that Harry wasn't pleased to see him. "Yeah, I think you made that abundantly clear a little while ago, thanks." He turned his gaze back to the lake.

Harry was shocked when he heard a rustle of robes and felt the presence of another sitting not far from him. Turning his head slightly, Harry watched Snape, never expecting to see the man in such a relaxing position. Snape's left leg was extended in front of him, and his right leg was bent, his knee in the air. He had his right elbow resting on that knee and his chin in the palm of his hand. His black eyes surveyed the lake.

"I nearly fell in this murky lake when crossing in the boats first year," Snape murmured.

"What? You?" Harry asked, startled. "What happened?" he couldn't help posing.

Snape told the story:

"Lily and I shared a boat, of course, but we weren't alone..."

_"Oh, not them again," Lily groaned._

_Snape looked about and saw who Lily was referring to: those two annoying boys from the train. They had obviously become instant best friends, and Snape felt his lip curling in disgust._

_"Come on, Lily," he said, taking hold of her hand and leading her in the other direction. "There's bound to be a free boat over this way."_

_Finding an unoccupied one, Snape and Lily got in. The boats all around them were quickly filling, most with four students in them. Then, their boat rocked slightly as someone stepped in. Snape noticed the newest occupant first._

_"You!" he shrieked. "You couldn't find another boat?"_

_"All taken, Snivellus," James said with a nonchalant shrug. _

_Sirius joined them a moment later. "It's not like it's got your name on it." He pretended to check, then joked, "Nope, no 'Snivellus' written on it, so it's free territory. Although I think I do see a few grease marks over here-"_

_James chuckled. Good one, Sirius!"_

_"Shut it, you two!" Lily yelled. "If you can possibly keep your mouths closed for the next ten minutes as we cross, it'd be much appreciated."_

_"Ooo, touch-y," James sang, smirking at Lily. "What's got your little knickers in a twist? Come on, er..." James thought, then remembered her name, "...Lily, what d'you see in him? A pretty girl like you-"_

_James felt something smack him in the shoulder, and he nearly lost his balance._

_"Hey!" he exclaimed indignantly, glaring at Lily._

_"Hmm, no wand... impressive bit of magic," Sirius said to Lily, who was glaring at both of them._

_"Yeah, and she almost pushed me into the lake!" James said, glowering at his friend, who laughed anyway. Noticing that Snape was suppressing a smile, James asked indignantly, "Oh, you think that's funny, do you, Snivelly? Well, Lily's not the only one with a trick or two up her sleeve-"_

_Here, James pointed his wand at Snape and uttered something. Of course the spoiled, rich boy had been practicing at home! Snape acted on instinct, having practiced enough with his mum's books, but James's spell hit him harder than he expected, and Snape's shield wasn't enough. Luckily, Snape felt Lily's hand clutching onto his arm, and with a great tug, she pulled him toward her. He fell gracelessly onto her lap, head-first. His nose was wedged right between her thighs._

_James and Sirius burst out laughing. _

_"Whoa, boy! Wait a few years before you go doing that to a girl!" Sirius crowed._

_Beet-red, Snape sat up and tried to right himself. Flushed with anger and embarrassment, he pointed his wand at the other boys. "You dare-"_

_"Sev, please," Lily implored, "we're almost there." She gazed at him with those eyes of hers._

_Snape sighed and stowed his wand just as the boat arrived at the castle. As they disembarked, Snape mumbled, "Thanks."_

_Lily glared at the backs of James and Sirius as they retreated and put a hand on Snape's shoulder. "Are you all right?" she asked, concerned._

_Snape sighed and forced a half-smile. "We're here, Lily, at Hogwarts. Thing'll get better from now on."_

When Snape finished the short tale, Harry knew that it was the man's own way of apologizing for his earlier behavior. He wouldn't have come out here and shared such a thing with Harry if he didn't want to be around him, and that made Harry's heart warm.

"That was a rare bit of optimism from you, Snape," Harry observed. He felt he could say so much more, especially saying he was sorry for his father's behavior, but they had been through that enough already.

"I am capable of it, although like you said, Potter, it is rare."

Harry watched his teacher and began to believe that Snape could be happy.


	9. Chapter 9

Author's Note: Since so many of you have asked, I'm going to answer: This story will not be much longer at all, only one more chapter. I never intended for this story to be long, and it's just supposed to be mostly about Snape and Harry's conversations as they come to understand each other better. Since my due date is Sept. 10, I cannot commit to something longer. I poured my heart and soul into my novel-length fic, The Moment It Began, for a year and a half, so if you're looking to read something really long and developed by me, look there. This fic was originally intended to be a longish oneshot, but then I decided to break it up into a few short chapters. It has been written simply for my enjoyment, so no, there won't be any big plot twists or lengthy back stories of Snape's past or anything. I'm sorry, but I simply do not have the time or energy to devote to give a story like that to give it justice, but I hope you enjoy this little romp anyway. Thanks for reading!

Chapter Nine

Harry returned to the Burrow a few days later. Realizing he was quickly running out of time before the new term started, he decided some time away from Hogwarts was in order. Snape and he had mended a bridge between them, although it was still an unsteady bridge, and Harry didn't want to press his luck. He had taken up enough of the older wizard's time, and even though Snape, in an uncharacteristic turn of almost kindness, hadn't told him otherwise, Harry suspected he was starting to get on the other man's nerves.

Harry was content. He had learned so much about his mum during his stay at Hogwarts these past few weeks, and Lily had become more than just a name and a representation to him. He wished he had truly known her as a person, but speaking to her childhood best friend had been the next best thing.

It was now early August, and the sun had already been up for a couple of hours. Molly Weasley's irritated voice bellowed from the first level for the third time that breakfast was cold and that if they wanted any, they had better get their lazy bottoms downstairs.

Harry smiled as he sat up and rubbed the sand from his eyes. Reaching for his glasses, he put them on and focused on Ron's slumbering form across the room. Harry picked up a pillow and chucked it at his friend.

The pillow made a dull thud as it hit Ron in the head. The red-haired boy groggily sat up, clearly disoriented.

"Wha-?" he asked, looking around. Spotting Harry laughing, Ron scowled. "Oh, very funny, mate."

"Your mum's demanding our presence at breakfast," Harry said, sobering. "What d'you say?"

At the mention of "breakfast," Ron immediately perked up and swung his long legs over the side of the bed. "I say yes," he stated with no small amount of enthusiasm.

The two boys ambled out of the brightly-painted orange bedroom and down the stairs, navigating their way to the kitchen. Hermione and Ginny were already present and were talking with Mrs. Weasley, who turned and shot the boys a glare worthy of a pissed off dragon.

"Well, it's about time," she admonished. "You're lucky the girls have the common decency to save something for you."

Ron smiled sheepishly as he slid in next to Hermione, and Harry took the seat across from them, which was next to Ginny. Mrs. Weasley rolled her eyes and sighed, leaving the four of them alone, muttering something about having laundry to finish.

"Have a nice sleep, you two?" Ginny teased.

"I could've kept sleeping," Ron said, yawning as he shoveled eggs and bacon onto his plate.

Harry shook his unruly head at Ron and took what was left of the food.

"Are you lot going to review at all before school starts?" posed Hermione.

Ron rolled his eyes. "Not likely," he replied. "Why?"

"Well, we've missed a whole year, Ronald," Hermione started lecturing.

"Not me," Ginny interjected, "so it'll be all of us in seventh year. Weird, that."

Harry was glad that Ginny would be in the same year as the rest of them. It was true that she hadn't finished her sixth year at Hogwarts, but the year had been abruptly ended in early May for all the remaining students, anyway.

"It's going to seem kind of anti-climatic going back after last year," Harry said, "but maybe it won't be that different. Most of the teachers will be the same."

"At least Snape won't be headmaster anymore," Ron said distastefully. "I don't care if he was a war hero. He's still bound to be the same git he always was."

"Ron!" Hermione yelled, outraged. "He almost died! Have a little more respect."

"I can respect the man from afar," Ron quipped.

Ginny snorted, partly agreeing with her brother. She had been at Hogwarts when Snape had been headmaster, after all, but now that she thought about it, she realized his hands had been tied, but he had done little things to help protect them.

"I'm surprised he's staying, to be honest," Harry said, "but I'm glad he is. Like me, I think Hogwarts has been more of a home to him than any other place. He's not so bad, Ron, if you actually talk to him."

"What would I have to say to Snape?" Ron asked.

"Maybe not much, come to think of it," Harry agreed. "But I've learned a lot about my mum from him these past couple of months, and I think... I think he may finally be more at peace with himself."

"That's great, Harry," Hermione encouraged wistfully.

Personally, Hermione felt badly for Snape and admired Harry's earnest heart. Most girls who had found out about Snape's unrequited love for Lily couldn't help but find him tragically romantic.

Ron, tired of the subject, glanced out the window at the beautiful day beyond the glass. "Who's up for a match of Quidditch?"

x x x x x

Back at Hogwarts, Snape was finally able to spend several days on end alone. At first, he had been looking forward to that time, thinking he could find some blissful peace without Harry Potter practically following him around like a lost niffler, but he kept almost expecting Harry to turn up at every turn.

He had merely tolerated the young man at first, but he had grudgingly allowed Harry into his life more and more lately. He wouldn't call the boy a friend, per se, but it was clear that they were no longer the enemies they had been for years. By talking about Lily, Snape had moved on some and had come to realize how much Harry was like his mother. He sometimes wondered what his relationship with Harry would have been like had he realized this years ago, but it would have been too dangerous, too risky. Only with Voldemort gone could Snape feel it safe to allow Harry in.

A knock came from the door to his office, and Snape sighed, setting down his quill. He was preparing for the upcoming school year and wanted to be finished with enough time to get away for a couple of weeks - maybe visit the countryside in an undisclosed location.

"Enter," Snape said.

Minerva McGonagall stood on the other side of the door. Snape had been half-expecting Harry.

"Good morning, Severus," the witch greeted him. She took a seat, uninvited.

"Was there something you wanted, Minerva?" he asked.

"You've been holed up down here for days," she observed. "I simply wanted to check to see if you were still alive." Her thin lips quirked slightly.

"Alive and well," Snape drawled, his voice once again velvety and deep.

"You sound like yourself," McGonagall said with a real smile, "and you look good. I'm pleased to see it."

_Look good?_ Snape wondered.

"Flattery doesn't become you, Minerva," Snape sneered.

McGonagall waved him off with a huff. "Severus, you need to learn to take a compliment. If there were ever a more opportune time, it would be now."

Snape just snorted. "Was there anything of importance you wished to discuss, then?"

McGonagall stopped trying to make small talk and simply said, "I have been checking in with all the professors to see how they are progressing with their plans for term and if they needed any assistance."

"Everything is on schedule. You know of my plans, but I'll be back by the Welcoming Feast on the first," Snape replied.

McGonagall stood, pleased. "Good."

She made to walk out the door, but she turned and considered the wizard before her. Snape was already focused on the ledger in front of him.

"I'm glad you're staying, Severus. I hope this is a good year for you after so many awful ones."

She left before he could reply, but her words left him gaping at the now-closed door. Snape felt a small pool of warmth filling him inside, but it wasn't so foreign a feeling any longer. To know he was wanted and more than just tolerated by others was enough to make him feel welcome anywhere.

Author's Note: Sorry, no Snape/Harry interaction here, but I felt a little break was needed! Back to Hogwarts in the final chapter.


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter Ten

Summer stretched on through the hot and humid days of August, but as the month progressed, the amount of daylight grew noticeably shorter, and the nights began to cool. By the time the end of the month arrived, there were a few days here and there with more autumn-like weather, signaling the beginning of the next season and the commencement of a new school year.

Harry hadn't returned to Grimmauld Place during that time, choosing instead to remain with the Weasleys and Hermione at the Burrow. This was his family, after all, and the Burrow was homey and welcoming, very opposite of the dark and depressing halls and rooms in Sirius's old abode.

It was odd to think about returning to Hogwarts after being away for an entire year. They were older and wiser in many ways, knowing that their experience from the war had shaped them into the people they were today. There would be no going back to the younger, more innocent days of their youth, but for Harry, he supposed he really hadn't ever had a normal childhood. His years spent with the Dursleys had been miserable enough, but ever since finding out he was a famous wizard who had a price on his head, Harry had never been like any other teenage boy around him.

He now found himself wondering if he could ever feel… normal.

The night before they were scheduled to return to Hogwarts, Harry lay awake in bed, staring at the ceiling of Ron's darkened room. The other boy was snoring peacefully across from him, completely oblivious to Harry's wakefulness. In comparison, Ron had had a pretty average teenage existence, despite his association with Harry. What did he have on his mind but food and Hermione?

Harry thought about Dumbledore and his plans and schemes, about how he had always identified Hogwarts with the late headmaster. He didn't feel resentment toward the old wizard so much anymore on his behalf, but talking with Snape earlier that summer had made Harry feel that Dumbledore should have treated Snape better. If only Dumbledore had explained himself more… told Snape about the Elder Wand and the Horcruxes… then maybe Snape wouldn't have almost lost his life.

Worst of all, Dumbledore had used Lily and her memory against Snape to keep him in place all those years. Didn't Dumbledore think Snape had enough honor and dignity in his own right to obey and serve without being guilted into it? From what Harry saw of Snape now, he knew that the man had an amazing ability for loyalty and a deep capacity for love, and had he not made some foolish choices in his youth, he would have never gone down the path he had.

Harry hadn't been in contact at all with Snape since leaving Hogwarts a few weeks prior. He wondered how he was faring and hoped that maybe they might continue their – what should he call it? – friendship? Somehow, Harry doubted Snape would be so open with him once the term was underway, at least in the classroom, but that would be okay with him. He felt they had come a long way in a short period of time, and he didn't want their efforts to have been wasted.

Eventually, Harry's eyelids grew heavy as these thoughts became fuzzy in his mind. The next thing he knew, Mrs. Weasley's voice was calling them from downstairs, demanding they get out of bed quickly and come down to breakfast.

x x x x x

August had been the reprieve Snape had needed. It was now September 1, and he joined the other teachers at the Head Table, in preparation for the Welcoming Feast. Before long, the students filed into the Great Hall and took seats according to their houses. He spotted Harry Potter sitting with his usual crowd, and the young man briefly gazed back at him, exchanging a look with those green eyes. Harry's mouth flickered into a smile, but Snape simply stared back at him. He didn't need any questioning glances from the rest of the staff, let alone any students.

If Harry were at all disappointed by Snape's lack of warmth in greeting, he didn't make it known. The rest of the feast progressed as usual after the Sorting. McGonagall took her place as the headmistress and welcomed everyone and announced the rules. Before long, the students were asked to go to their dormitories.

Snape saw Harry hanging back with his friends, and a slight sneer crossed his face. What was the boy hoping to achieve? They may have "bonded" (here, Snape's lip curled in distaste as the infernal word went through his mind) over the summer some, but if Harry had intentions of so openly seeking the same treatment now that the school term had started, he was gravely mistaken.

The following morning, Snape found himself once again in the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom. His first class was to be the seventh years. He sat at his desk, watching impassively as the students filtered into the room, taking their seats, some of the Slytherins greeting him, but the others either ignoring him or giving him strange glances, which he knew had to do with his role in the war. Many still didn't trust him, yet several thought him a hero. Whatever they thought, Snape was here to teach, not to indulge in any misconceptions or fantasies any students may possess.

Harry took a seat near the front, which would have surprised Snape in the past, but he certainly hoped the boy wasn't planning on sucking up to get in his good graces. He had enough brown-nosing where Miss Granger was concerned.

"Good morning, sir," Harry managed to greet him, offering a smile.

"Potter," Snape replied shortly. Just then, the bell rang, so Snape summoned the door shut and stood, in hopes of beginning his first lesson.

Before he could even talk, though, Susan Bones raised her hand.

"Yes, Miss Bones?" Snape asked.

"Sir, is it true… that you were attacked by You-Know-Who's snake in the war?" she posed quietly.

Snape unconsciously tugged at his collar, pulling it higher around his neck. "Yes," he snapped, "but that is of no significance or importance to this lesson. Now, if you please-"

"How did you survive?" Terry Boot questioned skeptically, thinking Snape had probably employed some sort of Dark Magic.

"Probably used some Dark spell or potion," another Ravenclaw muttered to Terry.

Harry was frowning.

"That's not true," he interjected. "Get your facts straight before you go making assumptions."

"What would you have us believe, Harry?" Dean Thomas asked rationally enough. "You know how things were last year."

Snape knew exactly what Dean was referring to: no Muggle-borns allowed at Hogwarts and the school being run by Death Eaters.

"We are not here to discuss-" Snape began to say, his patience wearing thin.

"What? That you weren't loyal to the Dark Lord, after all?" Pansy Parkinson asked nastily. Beside her, Draco remained quiet, staring at the surface of the desk.

"Shut up, Parkinson!" Ginny yelled. "It's amazing you're still even allowed at Hogwarts."

"Maybe talking about the war would be a good idea," Neville suggested, trying to ignore the banter. "It might help."

"This is not a therapy session, Longbottom," Snape stated harshly. "If you need to share your feelings and deepest woes, go to your Head of House on your own time."

"I wasn't suggesting-" Neville started to say, but Harry finished for him with, "Sir, Neville has a good point. Maybe it'd help with the, er, arguing going on here. People need to have their facts straight, I think, and the _Daily Prophet_ certainly hasn't been providing them."

Harry was gazing at Snape imploringly.

"Enough!" Snape bellowed, truly incensed now. "This is Defense Against the Dark Arts, not a discussion forum, Potter! Ten points from Gryffindor!"

Harry was stunned. His mouth was hanging open at the unreasonableness of his professor, but he quickly recovered himself and clamped his mouth shut. Glaring at Snape, Harry said, "Whatever you say, _sir_."

The rest of the class was cowed. No one liked being on the receiving end of Snape's temper, so they quieted and allowed their teacher to proceed with the lesson. Snape's concentration was awful during the whole class, however, and by the end of the period, his irritation had become very evident when he assigned them three feet of parchment on the uses and history of wandless blocking spells. Only Hermione seemed pleased with the extra homework.

Harry was standing there, displeased with this turn of events. He had thought things would be different, even if Snape wasn't willing to be the almost friendly version of himself openly. Couldn't the man simply have been a little more reasonable, a little more patient and understanding?

"Go on ahead," Harry uttered to Ron, Hermione, and Ginny.

"Are you mental?" Ron asked softly. "What good will it do?"

"I've got to try," Harry insisted. "Now, go… please."

Hermione and Ginny exchanged a withering look and nodded, going to the door, followed by Ron, who glanced back at Harry one last time as if he were truly crazy.

Snape knew Harry was standing there, but he kept his head bent over the next class's lesson plans. Harry approached the desk.

"Sir," he stated levelly.

Snape had tried the ignoring tactic in the past and knew it wouldn't work. He sighed and glared at Potter.

"Don't you have a class to get to, Potter?"

"Free period," Harry supplied. "Your next class isn't for another fifteen minutes. I should think that's enough time to… talk."

"Ah, so you just want to have a little chat, is that it, Potter?" Snape asked sardonically. "I have work to do. The summer is over. I will not indulge in your company."

"Did you enjoy the rest of your summer, then… without me around to get in the way?" Harry challenged.

"Yes, believe it or not, I found it quite enjoyable," Snape almost snarled.

"Yes, you sound very happy," Harry shot back just as sarcastically.

"So it all comes back to this ridiculous notion of happiness for you, does it?" Snape asked, irate. "Potter, you've tried to 'fix' me enough already. I do not need you- your protection."

All Harry heard was "I do not need you." Even though Snape had corrected himself quickly, Harry knew the deeper lying implications. He tried not to visibly appear upset, but the slight slump in his shoulders and the downcast eyes were inevitable as he stepped away from the desk.

"I get it," Harry said, his voice barely above a whisper. "You didn't want my mum coming to your aid all those years ago, so you pushed her away… called her a Mudblood because it was easier to be cruel and a _coward_," here, Harry's voice rose and changed from bitter to cruel in its own right, "than to be honest with your feelings toward others and about yourself.

"It was never about forcing you to do anything, Snape. When they started questioning your loyalties during class, something inside me burned to set the record right, because it seems you won't do it for yourself. It's like you want people to go on hating you-"

"It's nothing more than I deserve."

Harry stopped, blinking and wondering if he had heard correctly.

Then he exploded.

"Don't be ridiculous! Do you think I 'deserved' the treatment I got from my relatives growing up any more than you did from your dad as a kid? Of course not! And you know I never wanted any of this fame and all the baggage that goes along with it. You certainly didn't 'deserve' the treatment my father and his friends gave you, and you- you 'deserve' a lot better than people like Pansy Parkinson and the like suggesting you're a traitor. Like it or not, we were both used by Dumbledore and stuck in his whole mess together, and like it or not, Snape, we both survived… and I think that means something. You almost had me convinced that you were starting to embrace a new life, to find happiness after all this crap rained down on you for years. What happened today?"

Snape's eyes were large in shock at Harry's outburst. He shook his head.

"It wasn't… my intention, Potter, to have things go as they did in class today. While I wanted to keep a professional distance from you during class and treat you like any other student, truly, it would seem old habits die hard. You weren't the only one upset by the questions and accusations, but they weren't aimed at you. I am not… used to someone looking out for my best interests."

"So, where does that leave us, then? Can we still talk like we used to… I mean, not in class, of course, but in our spare time?" Harry asked hopefully.

"You know where to find my office," Snape said. "I cannot guarantee I will always be in the mood, and you do realize that I will be marking essays and whatnot, so my time will be limited, but… should you need someone to talk to, my door is open… as open as it can be… to you, Harry."

Harry blinked. Snape had never called him by his first name before, and although it sounded forced and awkward on Snape's tongue, Harry smiled. He didn't think Snape would appreciate the familiarity of "Severus", but he had tolerated Harry's loose use of just "Snape" without the title. Something about that familiarity was bred from understanding, no longer the old contempt Harry had once possessed.

"I'd like that, sir," Harry replied.

The door opened, and the next round of students began entering.

"Now is no longer the time," Snape said.

Harry took the hint and nodded. "Later, then."

He turned and walked out. Snape shook his head slightly, a bemused feeling filling him. Harry Potter was a part of his life and had been, whether he liked it or not, but now, Snape supposed he would mostly like it. The classroom afforded him a view of the outside, unlike the dungeons, and he watched as the tree branches swayed in the light breeze just beyond the glass.

The tip of the branch nearest the window had a bundle of bright red foliage, in beautiful contrast with the green. While most people would associate green with life, Snape found the red just as lovely. Autumn was here. How strange that the season that gave way to the barren death of winter could be just as beautiful in its own right.

Just as Snape's autumn life was.

_The End_

Author's Note: Yes, it's really over. Sorry if you wanted more, but there you have it! You can imagine the conversations Snape and Harry might continue to have throughout the year, and what happens after that? Does Snape continue to teach? I don't know, so I leave that up to your imaginations. Thank you for reading and reviewing!

The implications of the title, Autumn Life, were to refer to Snape's life after the war, since he was so close to death, yet beauty could still be found. Autumn is my favorite season, and we're on the cusp of it. I felt it appropriate to end with the beginning of September and autumn, especially with August nearly over in real time.

Now, I'm off playing the waiting game. Any day now, this baby could come! I will probably return to fanfic writing eventually when something sparks my interest, but I need a break now. Thanks again!


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